


all the devils are singin'

by shatteredhourglass



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Clothed Sex, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, It's. It's Just Sex. All Of It., M/M, POV Clint Barton, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Top Clint Barton, Yes All The Tags Are For Sex That's All This Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass
Summary: The conversation starts in a dressing room in Victoria’s Secret. (Technically they’re here to pick up a joke gift for Steve’s birthday, but Clint’s attention span is three seconds on a good day and since Bucky’s discovered that Clint’s kind of a slut no matter where they are, they get distracted pretty quickly.)“Are you two alright in there?”“Uh,” Clint says. “Yep. Just- uh, just trying things on. Yeah.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 50
Kudos: 226





	all the devils are singin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawksonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/gifts).



> For Arson. I lovingly referred to this as 'the porn bonanza' the entire time I was writing it and oddly enough, it was fun to make. Remember those days when writing smut was nerve-wracking? Enjoy!

The conversation starts in a dressing room in Victoria’s Secret.

(Technically they’re here to pick up a joke gift for Steve’s birthday, but Clint’s attention span is three seconds on a good day and since Bucky’s discovered that Clint’s kind of a slut no matter _where_ they are, they get distracted pretty quickly.)

“Are you two alright in there?”

“Uh,” Clint says. “Yep. Just- uh, just trying things on. Yeah.”

Bucky can’t _quite_ smirk with Clint’s dick halfway down his throat, but his eyes are alight with amusement as the store attendant says something that he doesn’t process.

The woman’s still talking as Bucky pulls off slow and teasing, flicks his tongue up against the head. Clint sinks his teeth into his lip so nothing incriminating slips out. He can’t stop watching as Bucky pumps him slow with the metal hand, though, a flicker of mischief in his expression.

The bastard’s doing this on _purpose. A_ s the attendant walks away with a click of heels, Clint gets his fingers tangled in the soft strands of Bucky’s hair and tugs hard enough to sting.

Bucky moans, his face flushing, and then makes a face like he didn’t mean to. That’s interesting - super hot on top of that, so Clint does it again. Bucky jerks forward on his knees and sucks Clint’s cock down again to muffle the noise he makes, the heat of his mouth at odds with the cold fingers pressed against Clint’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Clint breathes, tries to steady himself on the wall of the changing room. He ends up knocking a few pairs of neon thongs onto the floor but it doesn’t bother him nearly as much as Bucky’s fully-clothed appearance does.

He’s still got his _jacket_ on, for fuck’s sake.

Bucky’s got his eyes closed like he’s blissed out on it. Clint tugs on his hair again just to see - and because a small, dark part of him enjoys the thrill. He’s not sure what he expects but Bucky’s next noise vibrates against his cock deliciously and then Bucky slides down until his nose is brushing skin, easy as anything.

Someone knocks on the door and Clint twitches, hand accidentally fisting tighter in Bucky’s hair. It’s got to sting like a bitch but Bucky shivers and stays quiet this time, as Clint tries to clear his throat and make it sound like he isn’t in the middle of a truly spectacular blowjob.

“Yeah?”

“Will you be done soon? Other people have places to be, you know.”

“I, uh- I doubt this is going to take much longer,” Clint says distractedly, his eyes caught on the way Bucky’s right hand is flexing on his own denim-covered thigh. “Just- give us a minute?”

It’s honest enough. The woman on the other side of the door sighs like he’s a nuisance, though. And he _is_ a nuisance, but he’s also trying to get them out of here without a public indecency lawsuit. (Clint’s had plenty of those before, but Bucky doesn’t deserve the indignity.)

Bucky stays still for a full ten seconds and then starts sucking him off properly and Clint _really_ hopes that woman has moved away from the door, because the wet sounds immediately give away what they’re up to.

Clint’s a little worried, and then he forgets to feel anything except for the heat of Bucky’s mouth because it’s _good_ , it’s _so good_ , and all he can do is pant for breath and try not to shout as he comes down Bucky’s throat.

Bucky keeps going as he trembles, the little pangs of overstimulation spiking through him. Clint gets off on the edge of too much sometimes - _most_ of the time - but his fingers still twist in Bucky’s hair roughly as he arches up against the thin wall, toes curling hard in his sneakers.

“Shit,” Clint says, voice barely above a whisper. “Fucking _hell_ , Buck, that’s not legal.”

Bucky’s eyes flutter as he pulls off, licks his lips carefully.

“The fun stuff’s never legal,” he says, voice rough as sandpaper but immensely satisfied.

“You’re supposed to be Captain America’s right-hand man,” Clint tells him. “You can’t condone illegal things.”

“I can do a lot worse,” Bucky offers.

“Filthy boy, Barnes,” he says, and Bucky cocks one eyebrow like he thinks it’s a challenge.

Clint’s half-tempted to take him up on it, but they’re going to get interrupted again at any second and he’s more occupied with yanking Bucky up to his feet and shoving a hand down his jeans. They don’t have time for him to tease and draw it out until Bucky’s sobbing half-desperate breaths, as much as he wants to, so Clint just starts stroking him fast and hard, twisting his fingers the way he knows Bucky likes.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes. “Pull my hair again, c’mon.”

What?

The time constraint has him pushing aside questions in favour of getting his free hand back in Bucky’s messed-up hair. Clint keeps stroking as he gets a fistful of hair, pulls until Bucky’s neck is bared and he can run his tongue up the expanse of skin.

He bites down a second later, giving into the part of him that thrills in Bucky’s submission, and the pain must do something for Bucky as well because he grabs at Clint roughly and comes all over his stomach.

“Wow,” Clint says, an indeterminate amount of time later. “Now I know why you didn’t bother getting it cut.”

“Fuck off, Barton,” Bucky answers, but he sounds hazy and blissed-out the way he only gets after one of the _really_ good orgasms. “I didn’t get it cut because I didn’t _want_ to get it cut.”

“If you say so,” Clint says. “What was that about, then?”

Bucky’s silent for a minute. Clint lets him, because they’re far enough along in this relationship that he trusts Bucky to figure it out for himself before sharing. Someone’s kid is crying somewhere outside of their little slice of privacy.

“I like it when you get rough with me,” Bucky admits finally.

“Mkay,” Clint says, eases his grip so he can fix up Bucky’s hair where he’s messed it up. It’s a lost cause at this point, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He’s watched Natasha’s hair often enough to know there’s only one solution to this, and that solution is to ignore it. “What kind of rough? For future reference.”

“What?”

“Examples, Bucko,” he elaborates. “Is it just a little hair-pulling or should I be cuffing you to the bed and fucking you so hard that you forget the last hundred years all over again?”

He’s half-joking - and it’s a terrible, _awful_ joke anyway because Clint finds some kinda security in making cracks about their trauma - but he doesn’t miss the way that Bucky’s pupils dilate like he’s into the idea. Clint tucks that knowledge away in his brain carefully. He’s sure there’ll be a use for it in the future, but right now he’s more interested in getting a handful of Bucky’s ass and hauling him in for a hard kiss that leaves them both breathless.

“I want you to slap my ass,” Bucky says when they break apart, like it’s been torn out of him by Clint’s magical makeout skills.

“...I do that already?”

He does. Often at extremely inopportune times. Steve has added a rule _specifically_ about touching, talking and slapping Bucky’s ass in public places. He pretends it’s because the press got ahold of a photo one day, but Clint knows it’s because Natasha found it funny to slap _Steve’s_ ass once before and he’d gotten shy.

“Hello? Are you done yet?”

“Two secs,” Clint calls back.

Oh, Steve.

He’d be so scandalized if he knew what they got up to in their spare time.

Clint’s still got a generous handful of Bucky’s ass under his fingers now, so he dares to sneak in a squeeze while he’s there. It’s a very nice ass. Clint’s very glad to be dating the owner of it.

“Not _now_ ,” Bucky says under his breath, although he looks like he’s actively considering it. “She’ll think you’re abusing me or something.”

“I would _never_.”

“I know,” Bucky answers.

“Might fuck you up a little, though,” Clint offers, squeezing again and then letting go. “Later, though. We’ve got to go before they break down the door.”

He wriggles his jeans up around his hips and then realizes Bucky’s left a mess smeared on his stomach. It already feels tacky on his skin and Clint sighs, figures there’s only one way to get rid of it without a lawsuit. Bucky seems to think otherwise.

“Wait, don’t-” but it’s too late, Clint’s already wiped at the come on his stomach with his shirt. Bucky groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Barton. I have tissues.”

“Oh.” Clint shrugs, balls his shirt up and tucks it in his pocket.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he does pass over his jacket for Clint to wear, so he can’t be too disgusted.

 _I’ll make it up to you_ , Clint signs as they’re walking out of the shop. _Trust me._

(They forget to buy Steve a present, though, and end up buying a series of Captain America-themed sex toys from a random store on their way home. The store attendant _absolutely_ knows who Bucky is, and pretends very hard that they don’t. It’s hilarious.)

Tony’s connected his mobile phone notifications through to his hearing aids, so when no one reacts to the soft ding he figures it must be Bucky.

Clint glances around to make sure no one’s paying attention to him before he slides it out of his pocket. Natasha notices because of course she does, but at least she doesn’t rat him out to Steve or Tony. Clint’s a little unsure about the knowing smirk on her face. It’s not high on his list of priorities though, and especially not when the text is from Bucky.

 _Mission went off without a hitch,_ the text reads. _See you back at the apartment._

Ooh.

It’s about time. Bucky’s been gone for a week, and he’d been called away the second Steve’s birthday party had finished. It’s not that Clint’s the needy, clingy sort of boyfriend that can’t be away from his significant other for long - except it’s _exactly_ that, and he gets nervy when Bucky’s out on his own.

Point is, Clint’s looking forward to getting to touch Bucky properly again, talk to him face-to-face.

Maybe kiss him face-to-face.

“Barton? We interrupting something?”

Clint glances up at Tony with his hands on his hips. Steve’s making a face behind him that warns a lecture about paying attention that will take at least an hour, so he just slides his phone back into the pocket of his tac gear and stands up. He doesn’t have time for this, he’s got a night of old-fashioned debauchery to prepare for.

“Hawkeye emergency,” he says. “This was fun. Gotta blast.”

“Wait,” Steve says. “What kind of a Hawkeye emergency?”

“Uh. Kate needs me to walk the dog?”

“Kate’s in Europe,” he hears Steve say, but he’s already out the door and heading for the elevator.

Priorities sure are fun things.

The shower’s running when Clint unlocks the door and pushes his way in, which is fine.

It means he’s got time to kick Bucky’s boots out of the doorway and refill Lucky’s food bowl with the fancy stuff, hoping it’ll keep him occupied enough that he won’t bother them. Clint strips off his jacket and leaves the rest of his clothes on, picking at the collar of his undershirt to make sure it’s not _too_ gross. He’s a little sweaty, but it’s passable.

Satisfied, he heads up the stairs, throwing his phone in the direction of the couch so it won’t bother him.

Clint’s just set down his quiver by the bed when the bathroom door opens and he’s greeted with the sight of a damp, floral-scented boyfriend. Bucky’s taken to wrapping a towel around his head for his wet hair and it paints an oddly domestic picture. It’s something he wouldn’t have guessed for either of them, but he can’t complain.

“Hey.”

“Steve’s gonna have your ass if you keep running out during meetings for me,” Bucky says, but he steps in close when Clint hooks his fingers in the towel around his waist.

“You don’t know I ran out of a meeting,” Clint says, leans in to press his lips under Bucky’s ear. “Lies and slander.”

“Natasha texted me,” Bucky answers.

“That’s cheating,” Clint informs him. He pulls the towel off Bucky’s head and winds his fingers into the wet strands, tugs _very_ lightly just to tease. “You know what happens to cheaters, Buck?”

“Is this a setup for a bad pick-up line?”

“Maybe.”

“Save it,” Bucky says decisively. "You've got better things to do."

Bossy. Clint smacks his ass. It’s not a hard smack by any means, nor is it particularly effective - Bucky splurged on the big, fluffy towels so there’s a fair amount of padding. The expression he gets from Bucky _for_ the smack is very effective, however. Clint doesn’t comment on it, instead tugging at Bucky’s towel so it pools onto the carpet instead, leaving him bare.

“Get on the bed,” he says, lets his voice drop into something low and a little dangerous.

It’s a test.

Bucky gets on the bed.

He’s laid out on his stomach, so Clint gets a nice eyeful of the elegant line of his spine and the curve of his ass. Clint’s not one for fancy words, but he’d certainly have a crack at writing poetry about the way Bucky looks all spread out on his sheets.

Clint steps closer to the mattress, plants a knee between Bucky’s thighs so he has to spread them.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, baby, that’s good. You okay with this?”

Bucky spreads his thighs a little more, which is- well, it’s _extremely_ hot. Clint needs more, though, just in case this goes wrong. They’re not taking it too far, but with the trauma and the bad past and the seventy years of Hydra, he’s got to be sure.

“Safeword, Buck?”

“Kansas,” comes the reply immediately, and Clint strokes a hand down his leg as a silent thank you.

Then he runs his tongue down the length of Bucky’s spine until he gets to his ass, and then he spreads Bucky’s cheeks and licks at his hole just for the sharp, shocked noise it earns him.

They make a lot of jokes about Clint being the team slut - it’s okay because it’s true, and because Clint’s usually the one _making_ the slutty jokes. Still, Clint’s only slutty for Bucky and that’s fine because _Bucky_ is kind of slutty for him as well, especially when Clint’s tongue is in his ass.

Bucky’s swearing under his breath and trying to squirm back against the sensation and Clint just holds him down a little harder and draws back. There’s a special kind of thrill involved in keeping Bucky exactly where he wants him, and he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. He lets himself wander, gets his teeth in the curve of Bucky’s ass and bites hard enough that Bucky jerks under his fingers.

“Fuck,” Bucky says breathlessly. “Fuck, Clint, _c’mon_.”

“Ask nicely,” Clint says, smacks at his thigh.

This hit is a little less nice than the one earlier - still not as hard as he can actually hit, but there’s a satisfying noise as his hand connects and an even more satisfying noise from Bucky himself. Clint rubs his fingers over the faintly pink spot, waits.

Bucky shifts impatiently on the sheets for a few seconds before he catches on. Clint’s given him an instruction, and he’s not getting anything until he goes along with it.

“Please,” Bucky breathes. It's a far cry from the snark that's normally present during sex. It makes Clint a little smug on the inside knowing that he's the one causing it. Bucky sounds dazed, high off whatever Clint’s willing to give him.

It’s a heady feeling and Clint can’t help indulging him, slaps the curve of his ass instead of his thigh this time. Bucky moans and arches up into the press of his hand. It’s not fair that he’s already this gone on it - Clint’s supposed to have _self_ - _control_ here, and he’s so turned on that his skin is prickling all over.

Clint smacks him again - once, twice, and then gives in to the urge to press his lips against Bucky’s spine, nip at the skin hard enough to sting. He’s always enjoyed sex as a rule, but there’s something about sex with Bucky in particular that makes him feel all lit-up on the inside. The urge to take Bucky apart until he’s begging for it is all-consuming right now, and Clint can’t resist getting his mouth back on him.

He alternates between rimming and spanking, keeps changing it up so Bucky can’t predict what he’s going to do next. Bucky’s making noises like he’s dying amongst a half-coherent mess that mostly sounds like _please_ and _Clint_ and _more_ , and Clint feels like he might be dying too.

“Don’t stop,” Bucky gasps when he pulls back, Clint’s thumb tracing over his spit-slick hole.

Dominant side or not, Clint’s hopelessly indulgent and it isn’t a hardship to find the lube in his pocket and slick up two fingers to push inside. Bucky’s boneless enough that there’s barely any resistance, and then Clint angles his fingers differently and Bucky cries out and clenches hard around his fingers.

“Good?”

“ _Clint_.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, keeps his eyes on where he’s thrusting in and out of Bucky’s hole. “That’s it, Buck, that’s good. Shit, _fuck_.”

Bucky’s next sound is more of a whine than anything else, and Clint nudges Bucky up onto his knees as he gets on the bed properly. Bucky doesn’t really get his front half up and off the bed, but he seems pretty happy about the change in position when Clint wraps his other hand around Bucky’s erection.

Bucky’s coming apart under his hands and Clint just keeps going, keeps finger-fucking and jerking him off until Bucky start making those half-sobbing noises that means he’s close, and then Clint pulls out his lube-slick fingers and smacks his ass _hard_.

All Clint wants right now is to see Bucky come and it’s what he gets in that moment, Bucky shuddering and crying out, his hips twitching into Clint’s curled fingers.

The view’s pretty damn good though, if he does say so himself.

Bucky slumps into the bed, only partially held up by Clint’s hands as he goes limp.

It’s a privilege, really. Bucky in a normal situation is guarded, filled with dry humour and biting remarks, never quite telling you exactly what he’s thinking. Even when he’s with _Steve_ there’s a flicker of caution on his face sometimes. Like _this_ though, he’s raw and open, and he’s all Clint’s.

It’s highly appealing. God, he’s so hard that it physically _aches_.

This is kind of addictive. _Bucky’s_ kind of addictive. Clint wants to just keep doing this forever, peel him open and keep going until Bucky’s crying. In an overwhelmed kind of way - he doesn’t want to make the man cry _properly_. God, but he wants more.

Clint unzips his pants, shoves them down his thighs and pulls his dick out. Bucky doesn’t really react to the noise - Clint’s not even sure that he knows what’s going on. It’s not like he can see with his face pressed into the sheets like that.

“You can come again, right?”

Clint doesn’t actually wait for an answer, just slicks up his dick and pushes inside with one smooth motion.

Bucky makes a sound like maybe he’s going to pass out, but in the good kind of way. Clint pauses for a second, keeps his fingers curled over the curve of Bucky’s hip when it feels like Bucky’s just going to slide down bonelessly on the mattress. He manages to keep himself somewhat upright, though, and when Clint grinds into him slowly he moans.

Clint checks anyway. “Okay?”

Bucky’s first effort at replying is _hrngh_ , which isn’t a _yes_ , and then he seems to somewhat regain control of his mouth. “Please.”

He doesn’t even need to tease him to get the begging now. Shit, that sure is something, isn’t it? Bucky’s fucking beautiful like this, they should’ve gotten into it sooner. Clint tugs his hips up a little higher, keeps his hands on Bucky’s hip as he pulls back slow until only the head of his cock is still inside.

Bucky tries to push back onto his dick. It seems like an unconscious move, because Bucky doesn’t even seem to be _here_ in his head right now. Clint keeps him where he is and even though Bucky could break out of his hold without a second thought, he stills anyway.

“That’s good, Buck,” Clint says, because he can’t shut up at the best of times and certainly not when he’s high off of how easily Bucky’s letting him take the wheel. “That’s perfect, so fucking hot, baby.”

Bucky’s nearly shaking underneath him. Clint decides to be merciful - mostly because he can’t be patient right now either - and thrusts back into him, bites the inside of his cheek at how _hot_ it is. He doesn’t stop this time, doesn’t tease. He can’t tease, just rolls his hips and listens to the slurred swearing from Bucky.

He releases one hand from its grip on Bucky’s hip, lets it drift over to where the skin is flushed from his hits. Something dark and satisfied twists through him and he digs his nails in, watches the way Bucky twitches.

“Touch me,” Bucky gasps, the first time he’s said two coherent words in a while.

It’s hot and desperate and Clint sees white for a second. Bucky’s definitely hard and Clint’s _so_ into it, even if it does make him feel a little old seeing him ready to go again so soon.

It seems like a natural progression to snap his hips harder at the same time he smacks Bucky’s ass again, tastes blood from how hard he’s gritting his teeth when Bucky moans. He’s thrusting just rough enough that Bucky’s clenching down on him with every thrust and it’s driving Clint out of his _mind_. He smacks Bucky again, tugs him back when he starts slipping forwards and picks up the rhythm.

They’re both breathing hard and Bucky’s moaning like he can’t help it, like it’s too much and Clint _wants_ it to be too much, wants to drive him off the edge with just this.

He lets go of Bucky’s ass without thinking, leans forward so he’s brushing the feverishly hot skin of Bucky’s back and keeps balance with one hand as he winds the other into Bucky’s sweat-damp hair and tugs. He’s rough enough that Bucky lifts his head off the sheets with a garbled noise that might’ve been Clint’s name.

Clint can feel every muscle in his body go tense and then shake out with the orgasm and it’s too much, Clint’s coming as well.

He might black out for a second, he’s not sure.

Clint shifts a little and Bucky flops against the mattress like someone’s stolen every bone in his body. Clint would be worried he’d killed him with sex, but luckily he can feel Bucky breathing.

“Good?”

Bucky grunts. Good enough. Clint takes it as permission to sprawl out on top of Bucky’s sweaty body and enjoy the post-orgasm buzz. Satisfied, he plants his face between Bucky’s shoulder blades and closes his eyes.

Perks of dating a supersoldier, Clint doesn’t need to worry about squashing him.

He’s not a _complete_ asshole, though, so once he remembers how his limbs work he rolls to the side, taking Bucky with him. Bucky grunts at him and wriggles back against him like Clint’s dick in his ass _isn’t_ close enough. It’s kind of sweet, really, and Clint presses a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck and closes his eyes.

“We’re doing that again,” Bucky mutters when Clint’s about to drift off.

“Five minutes,” Clint mumbles back. "I'm old, Buck."

They don’t wake up for the next twelve hours, and when Clint finally opens his eyes to stare blearily at his desk, he realizes that they forgot to give Steve his gag gift. Whoops.

Oh well, there’s plenty of time for it later.

There's also plenty of time to lament that the red marks on Bucky's ass have not stayed, and to plot out some time to make new ones.

**Author's Note:**

> Title Song: [Sway With Me - Saweetie feat. GALXARA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19pp2jNapL4)  
> -often these are not related to the fic but they work well as titles. Either way, no one can complain about credit.


End file.
